


(Not a) Freak

by Silverclare33



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Steve is a little shit, Werewolf Lore, Werewolf!reader, and it is awesome, becuase Steve totally loves it, get used to it, reader is an adorable nerd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-02-28 12:00:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2731691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverclare33/pseuds/Silverclare33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader is a linguistics/history expert with SHIELD, staying at Stark Tower to help figure out where the heck a certain artefact came from. She is also a werewolf. While her employers are aware of her condition, she prefers to keep it on a need-to-know basis, and hasn't gotten around to telling the avengers yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dad Jokes From an Ex-Russian Spy

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! This is the first fic I've posted publicly but not the first I've written. Sooo...let me know what you think!  
> Also - it's tagged as Teen Wolf because it's the same type of werewolf, but none of the characters will show up (that I know of - it could change if you ask.) they might possibly be briefly mentioned.  
> Happy reading!

The smells in Stark Tower were unfamiliar and frankly, a little overwhelming. You shifted the handle of your laptop bag down to your elbow and raised your head, sniffing lightly. Chinese food from last night, the same one you'd passed coming down the block. Disinfectant and scented candles (vanilla, cherry, coconut and cinnamon). That odd but comforting bouquet of chemicals you simply labeled 'science lab.' And you could smell people too - coming closer. A man and woman. You wondered which of the Avengers were coming to meet you - if it was even them. You had no way of knowing if they could be bothered for that sort of thing.   
"Ugh." You groaned and squeezed your eyes shut. What the hell had you been smoking when you agreed to take this job? You were't usually so adventurous.  
You twitched your nose and focused on the scene around you, forcing yourself to pretend you didn't hear the footsteps coming down at the end of the hall. It would freak them out if the first thing they saw was you waiting expectantly. Normal people couldn't hear that well. (Not, of course, that the Avengers were exactly normal, but you were fairly certain enhanced senses weren't on the superpowers list.)  
Man, these guys were rich. Good taste, too. The room you'd been shown into was some sort of combination living room/kitchen, and whoever had arranged things had an artist's eye for balance and form. It was very open concept -a lovely space, but it made you a little nervous to be standing there in your purple sneakers, jeans and pale blue button-down. Tugging nervously at a lock of hair, you chewed on a lip and turned to face the hallway they were coming from - they were within normal human hearing range now. You could even hear voices.   
"Seriously, Rogers, there's nothing stopping you right now." The woman's voice was low and pleasant, slightly guarded but playful. "There're tons of girls falling over themselves just to say hi to you."  
"No, they're falling over themselves for Captain America," the man corrected.   
Oh, yum. His voice was delicious to your ears. "I know what this job is, Natasha, but I'm just Steve."   
As he spoke his name they rounded the last corner. And stopped short when they saw you. The red-haired woman -Natasha - nudged Steve with her elbow. "There you go," she whispered, so softly you knew you weren't meant to hear (and wouldn't have if you were human.)   
"Shut. Up." He hissed, just as quietly. His warm blue eyes locked with yours and you felt a blush rising to your cheeks for no reason other than to embarrass you. Damn it. You cleared your throat.   
"H-hey," you said awkwardly. "I'm here for the obscure historical document that nobody can read."  
"Hey, Here-for-the-obscure-historical-document-that-nobody-can-read," the woman said, straight-faced. "I'm Natasha Romanov."  
You cracked a smile and shifted your weight nervously, not used to attention from attractive people. "It's Y/N," you said. "Y/N Y/L/N."   
The man (yowza, he was pretty) held out a friendly hand. "Steve Rogers," he introduced himself. You tilted your head, silent for a minute. His eyes were gorgeous. Hell, his everything was gorgeous. His hand was bigger than yours, warm and rough. You blinked as he stared back at you.   
Natasha cleared her throat, amused. You dropped your gaze and stared at the bag on your arm, blushing furiously again. "I'm so sorry," you muttered. "Please excuse the idiot nerd, she's quite out of her depth at the moment."  
Natasha made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a snort. "I'm going to tell the others you're here," she said, and headed back toward the hallway. You could almost swear you heard her humming a wedding march.  
"Don't worry about it." Steve gave a dismissive wave, then leaned closer to you. WOW, he smelled good. Was your mouth actually watering a little?  
"Between you and I," he whispered, "We've got a few nerds of our own."  
You snorted with laughter. "So I gathered, you guys have a lab right beside your living room."   
"Guilty," he grinned. "Tony's Lab is usually for whatever brand of science he's currently into, but it's got the copy of the document you'll be working on."  
"That's awesome." You chewed nervously on a lip. "Um...do you think you could show me to the guest room? I'm a little overwhelmed, and I could use a breather before I meet a bunch of new people. Especially if they're as cute as you."   
The instant the words were out if your mouth, your eyes widened in horror. Did you actually say that? You buried your flaming face in your hands and groaned, then gave him an apologetic smile. "Like I said, I'm totally out of my depth here. I'm not usually this idiotic."  
His expression was bemused and amused at the same time. He blinked and tilted his head. God, his smile was cute. Gah, dimples! Was he trying to kill you?   
"Don't mention it," he sId easily. "C'mon. Guest room's this way."  
You hoisted your bag onto your shoulder and followed him to the elevator, which opened soundlessly and deposited you a few minutes later into a quiet, carpeted hallway like a fancy hotel. There were nameplates on the doors - the one at the end was blank.  
"Here you go." He shifted his weight, hands in his pockets. Just as your hand hovered over the door, he cleared his throat, a mischievous smirk on his face.   
"Oh, and Y/N?"  
You paused and faced him. He leaned toward you, overwhelming you with his delicious scent. "I think you're cute too."  
You squeaked in embarrassment and escaped into your room.  
Even after you shut the door, you could here him laughing all the way down the hall.


	2. Everyone Smells Really, Really Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader meets most of the team and gets a first look at the mysterious tablet. Werewolves are mentioned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this is awful, it is very late and I cannot believe I am awake right now. Enjoy anyways!

You carefully folded the fluffy blankets on the guest bed and took a deep breath. Power naps were excellent, in your opinion, but scary new things had to be faced once they were over. The room itself was lovely; all in white and silver, with Art Deco elements in the decor. But it was time to get to work.  
You paused, hand hovering over the doorknob, and took a deep breath. Then you pushed it open and stepped out into the quiet hallway before you could lose your nerve. You swivelled your wrists and stretched, a hint of fang poking out of your gums as you yawned. Better not let anyone see that yet; you preferred to tell them on your own time, and you'd be long gone before the Full Moon took away your senses. There was no danger to anyone. You were a lone beta since you'd left your pack all those years ago. As long as you stayed away from California - and Beacon Hills - you should be all right.  
You glanced down the hallway. Where was everyone? Not that they had to babysit you or anything, but which way was the elevator? You cautiously sniffed the air - maybe you could follow Steve's scent?  
"Dammit," you muttered. Whatever air filters they used were good - there was barely any trace of human scent left, not enough to follow. Wait -  
What was that? Where? It was a clean, wild smell, like old bricks and cold wind. A....solitary sort of smell. You pivoted around, but there were no humans anywhere in sight. You couldn't hear any, either. No murmured voices, footsteps, or quiet movements from any of the rooms.  
But the smell was there.  
You eyes started to sting as your vision sharpened, while in your hands and mouth, a familiar aching itch signalled the emergence of sharp teeth and claws. No, no, no...FOCUS! You counted heartbeats, repeating your mantra in your head until you felt in control again. Your claws shrank back into fingernails. You took a shuddering breath.  
"Hey there."  
"What the f-" you whipped your head up and swallowed the stream of startled curses. On a ledge beneath the high ceiling, a man was crouching. His face was carefully schooled into blankness, but you could see the hint of a smirk in his blue eyes. Anger flared in your stomach. He'd meant to scare you! You tilted your head up, hand on hips. "And who are you exactly?"  
"Barrack Obama," he deadpanned.  
You relaxed a little. He obviously wasn't a threat at the moment, even though he probably could be if he so chose. He was compact, built of tightly coiled muscle. Really nice arms, especially. His sandy hair was cropped short and his blue eyes were shadowed. Suddenly it clicked.  
"Nice to meet you, Hawkeye. I'm Y/N."  
At that, he broke into a grin and dropped soundlessly to the floor, landing on his feet like a cat. "Call me Clint. You're lost, aren't you." He didn't phrase it as a question.  
"How did you - okay, yeah." Your cheeks flushed. "I'm trying to get to that one lab that's beside the living room?"  
Clint jerked his head left, presumably toward the elevator. "So you're here for that old thing nobody can read?"  
You sighed as you started walking. "Yeah, I specialize in obscurity. Know anything about this particular documents?"  
He scratched his head. "Uhh...it's got bulls on it, I think, and some weird circles and lines? Look, I don't know, I only saw the thing once."  
"Hmm." You frowned, chewing thoughtfully on your bottom lip. "Might be early Greek, but I'll have to get a look at it to be sure."  
As you finished speaking, you arrived in front of the silver elevator, which dinged open softly. It was occupied - by a man with a metal arm. He was dressed casually, with a cropped haircut and a pair of jeans, and a plain white t-shirt that barely fit his barrel chest. You mentally whistled. He was pretty, slouching forward with his hands in his pockets and a lazy tomcat smirk lighting up bright blue eyes. He smelled like steel and leather and whisky. The man caught your eye and the corner of his mouth lifted. "Hey, Nerd."  
Clint rolled his eyes. "Y/N, this is Bucky Barnes, Cap's best friend and professional grade-A asshole."   
"You know Steve?" You asked. Then winced. Could you be more obvious?  
Bucky raised an eyebrow. Oh god. He KNEW.  
"Know him?" Clint scoffed. "They're practically married.  
"Till death do us part," Bucky laughed. You felt your smile threaten to slide away. Steve and Bucky? Well, you had to admit they'd be cute. But you'd been so sure Steve was flirting with you. Guess you were mistaken. Trying to keep your expression polite and neutral, you cleared your throat. "So where are you headed, Bucky?"  
Bucky glanced at Clint, then smirked. "Same way as you, to the lab," he said. "I'm going to meet my girlfriend for a movie."  
"Girlfriend?" You squeaked, unable to hide a dimpled smiled. Clint snickered.  
"Careful, Y/N, your blush is showing," he teased.  
You gave a world-weary sigh and shrugged. "What can you do?"  
"You like Stevíe, huh?" Bucky grinned.  
"Okay. Fine," you groaned, burying your face in your hands. "He's adorable."  
The elevator door pinged open right into the lab, which was basically a higher-tec, better funded version of the one in Beacon Hills high. Lydia would've loved it. You could count at least eight scents, including the two in the elevator, that blended wonderfully. Cinnamon and silk and leather, lighting and rain, sweet damp stone, smoke and whisky, motor oil and fresh-mown grass. It had to be illegal for humans to smell so good.  
Two dark-haired men bent close to a 3D computer display, muttering excitedly. By scent and sound, you pegged them as Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, resident geniuses. You recognized something of yourself in the animated fervour as they discussed what they loved.  
Further back toward the wall, a pretty brunette with bright eyes and a sweet, powdery scent sat cross-legged on the counter next to a blonde giant of a man who, by his clothing, was called Thor. The woman must be Jane, then. God, they were sweet together.  
Natasha was there as well, sipping on a caramel-cinnamon latte and talking with Steve and a curvy dark-haired girl who looked a little younger than you.  
Behind you, Bucky cleared his throat and the girl's head snapped toward him, face lighting up. Ah, so that was the girlfriend. Like they were opposite magnets, within seconds they were attached at the lips. Clint huffed. "Teenagers."  
You frowned. "Isn't he like ninety?"  
"Yeah, I was talking about Darcy. She's twenty one, but her and Nat gossip like they're in high school."  
"Hell yeah, we do," Natasha called, without looking up. Clint got this slightly goofy look on his face when he heard her speak.  
The exchange had gotten everyone's attention, and after a flurry of confusing introductions, you found yourself (coincidentally, of course,) somewhere off to the side with Steve. His smell was hard to pin down. Cedar, maybe, blended with petrichor and bergamot. Yum.  
You scuffed the floor with one foot. "Hey."  
"Hi." Gosh, that smile.  
"So, uh...you guys all live here, huh?" It was lame. You mentally kicked yourself.  
He chuckled. "Looks that way, yeah."  
If the floor suddenly developed a taste for flesh and ate you, you wouldn't have protested at this point. He looked so pretty and smelled so good and you just knew he was laughing at you and -  
"Did you see the tablet?" You said a little breathlessly. "Clint wasn't much help."  
"Actually, I did see it," he replied, shifting his weight. "It's older than me, which is a nice change. It's a sort of picture pattern with some sort of writing on it." He bit his lip, hanging his thumbs out his pockets. "The pictures are easy -lots of animals and nature stuff. It's the writing we can't get."  
"Got it!" Tony called from one of the monitors. Within minutes you found yourself sitting in front of the screen with a horseshoe of super humans at your back. As you studied the picture in front of you, you noticed, out of the corner if your eye, that Natasha entwined her hand with Clint's without taking her eyes off the screen. Almost absentmindedly he squeezed it and brought it to his lips, also without looking away. Adorable.  
Three things were immediately evident looking at the tablet. It was Minoan. Something in it was alien.  
And right smack dab in the middle of the picture was a frigging werewolf.  
Oh, God.


	3. Of Wolves and Ancients

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which multiple mythologies are discussed, Thor is not stupid, and Steve is a little shit who enjoys making the reader flustered because he thinks it's adorable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, people who are reading this! I am so sorry this took so long - I sort of lost inspiration for a while, but I have the rest of the story outlined if that helps. Enjoy!

“Well?” Stark prompted. “Can you read it?”  
“Uhh...” you stopped, and swallowed hard. “Most of it. There's some things here that I need to look over more. This circular stuff over here, for example? I can't read that. But...”  
You deliberated. Should you mention the werewolf? Probably. It was fairly hard to miss, and someone might get suspicious if they figured out what that figure was and you hadn't said anything. You took a deep breath. Here goes.  
“That figure there? It makes no sense,” you said. “It's pretty obviously some sort of werewolf, but the Lycaon legend wasn't until much later in Greek myth. This is Minoan.”  
Silence. Expectant silence; they wanted you to go on. Yay! The nerd in you jumped for joy at the chance to explain a myth. You clicked away from the image of the tablet and swiveled your chair around.  
“Okay. So you know the Minotaur legend? The labyrinth and the bull monster?” Nods. This was a fairly well-known story, after all. Theseus was popular.  
“'Minotaur' literally means 'Minoan bull.' The Minoans were before the ancient Greeks, and they lived on Crete. Their religion was mostly centered around bulls. But there was a volcanic eruption and several things of that sort, and the Mycenaeans took over as the dominant culture.”  
“What does that have to do with werewolves?” Bucky asked. He made a little howl and Darcy smacked his metal arm with a muted clang.  
“That's the thing,” you said, eyes narrowed. “It shouldn't. The Greek werewolves come from Lycaon. Ugh. He was nasty,” you said, shuddering. “He had Zeus at his house in disguise, and to test if this guest was really a god, he...um...” you swallowed. You'd always found this part difficult to accept. “He killed one of his sons and fed him to Zeus.”  
It was amazing, the different qualities silence could have. This was obviously speechless horror.  
“Well. That's disgusting,” Tony said cheerfully. “But get on with the werewolf part.”  
You shrugged. “Apparently Zeus didn't like being fed human flesh. Go figure. He killed Lycaon's sons with lightning and turned Lycaon himself into a wolf. After that he was known as the Wolf King, and prowled the country turning people into wolves with his bite and stealing their livestock. We actually get the word Lycanthropy from his name.” Nervous, you licked your lips. The smells in the room told you the Avengers found the story as distasteful as you did. Revulsion smelled like sour milk, and, having been its subject, the smell made you decidedly anxious.  
“Anyway, that story is a much later myth than anything to do with the Minoans. There are no wolves on Crete anyway, so where would they get that story?” You shrugged helplessly. “It makes no sense.”  
“If I may, Lady Y/N,” Thor said, “I might have some insight.”  
Obviously you couldn't see yourself, but you could practically feel your eyes lighting up. Norse myth wasn't your specialty, but you did have an interest, and here was a living, breathing myth who could tell you so much about what was real and what wasn't.  
“You've heard of the Berserkers?” he asked, looking around the room. Most people nodded; last year's episode in Norway had made international headlines.  
“Bear-shirts,” you translated.  
Steve shifted his weight. “They were warriors who had some kind of supernatural rage fits, right?” Holy lord. He was smart too. Hot damn.  
Thor nodded. “Long ago, the Aesir fought battles here on Midgard.” He smiled, and nodded towards you. “This is where your myths of us originate, I believe.  
“The Berserkers were Odin's warriors, and carried staffs of magic which gave them the strength of rampaging bears. Their rage made them blind to all but their bloodlust.”  
“Charming,” Clint muttered. “Sign me up.”  
“There were other warriors of their breed,” Thor continued. “The Ulfhednar, the wolf-wearers. The Berserkers fought blindly, knowing no pain or fear in their anger. The Ulfhednar were similar, but more cunning. More sly.”  
“So Slytherins, then,” Darcy interrupted.  
Thor, being used to Darcy, just rolled his eyes and continued. “I do not know how they came to be in this Crete place, but I do know that at least a few remained in Midgard when the armies of Asgard returned home. Your legends have many stories of wolf-men, I believe.”  
There was another silence, this one a thoughtful silence as people digested the information.  
“So is everyone going to ignore that it's dinner time, or...” Jane finally said. “I don't know about you guys, but I'm starving.”  
There was general assent, and it was agreed upon that you'd study the tablet more tomorrow.  
As everyone was filing out of the lab, you glanced at Steve. He was leaning back against the doorway with his arms crossed over his broad chest, watching you thoughtfully. You felt a nervous flutter in your stomach, but ignored it and walked over to him.  
“Well, I hope you're impressed with my smartness,” you said, twirling a lock of hair around your finger. “Because that's pretty much all I've got going for me.”  
Steve pursed his lips, then looked you up and down. Blue eyes sparkling with mischief, he smiled. “I wouldn't say that.”  
It felt like the breath had been knocked out of your body. Blushing, you stammered. “I – I, um, thank you? I mean. Yes. Thank you. Argh.” To hell with it. You looked up into his face. “Can we just go eat now?”  
With the same little half-smile, he offered you his arm, and you walked together into the dining room.


End file.
